In Between
by Orelira
Summary: Voldemort has issued a new threat... will Harry, Ron and Hermione be able to defeat him? I really need reviews.thinking about making this a romance... any ideas are welcome of course! :)
1. CH 1: Welcome to Stonehengesburg

Disclaimer: OF COURSE I do not own any of J. K. Rowling's awesome characters!!!  
  
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Times were hard these days. What could be a bigger proof of this statement than the state that the little, one of the few remaining all-magic towns of Britain left was in? Stonehengesburg had transformed from a cheery, warm welcoming town to a hard-hearted, mistrustful place where strangers were unwelcome and smiles were misplaced years ago during a particularly strong attack by the Dark Lord. Ever since his Second Coming, when he rose once again, his power had increased a hundredfold.  
  
And his power was growing stronger every day. Seven years ago, The Dark Lord had come up with a way to scatter the opposition and possibly even slay the Potter boy. With his genius mind, he had fashioned a way to create a plague that would attack only magical folks- Muggles were immune to the plague due to their white blood cells, which are different from magical humans, that prevent them from performing magic and contracting the disease. In a weird blast of perverse humor, he had decided to name his creation The White Life, in referral to the The Black Death, which roared through Europe during the Middle Ages like a wildfire, killing millions. His disease was certainly going to be an epidemic, however the symptoms were a little different. For instance, it preserved life. Forever. However, the symptoms were irreversible and worse than death. A victim became white all over, hair, eyes and skin all become white as death. However, it is impossible to die. Victims are frozen in a state of neither life nor death; they cannot return to their previous lives nor can they go on to their death in peace. The sickness attacked the magic particles in witches and wizards' blood. Without these particles, the very essence of true life in a wizard, the core of a person's spirit, will die, starved from the magic it needs to survive.  
  
And it had spread. The Dark Lord's followers had smuggled the infection to his other servants in Azkaban, where they willingly contracted it to please their Master. And it spread from there. There was no cure. Everybody feared it. If little children contracted it, their mother would abandon them to save herself. Towns became nearly deserted. No longer were they bustling centers of commerce, but silent graveyards of empty houses. A few of the most popular towns still had a few people, an inn or pub, and possibly a shop or two, like Stonehenge.  
  
Always a popular tourist site for magic folk, it contained a pub that served as an inn, and a broom-cleaning service station. Wherever one went, however, travelers were always feared and mistrusted, either because they could be spreading the plague or because they could be agents of the Dark Side. There had been about twenty Ministers of Magic since Mr. Cornelius Fudge, and people never dared voice their opinions on anything political, for fear of 'mysteriously disappearing' as people tended to do these days.  
  
With Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley reduced to shambles, Stonehengesburg was the last intact wizarding community still in existence besides Hogwarts in England. However, it was greatly changed. The place was dreary and quiet. No market stalls were open from morning to night as there used to be. Markets attracted people, which attracted the plague. No longer were the houses freshly painted in vivid and refreshing blues, pinks and oranges. No longer were there magical fireworks every Saturday. Decorative places and flashy bursts of magic attracted You-Know-Who's unwanted attention. No longer did the bells of the courthouse chime to call the people to debates on social and economical issues; politics of any kind were to be avoided.  
  
The Pub itself was owned and tended by the landlord and landlady and their daughters and sons. The boards creaked, the beds were lumpy, the service was dismal, and the food unremarkable. The whole place smelled strongly of dirty gym socks, and the atmosphere was surly and hostile. There were about three long tables with long wooden benches in the pub. Mug stains and dagger marks disfigured the tabletops, and a pathetically weak fire burned in the colossal fireplace as way of warmth. It was not uncommon to see two cloaked figures with their hoods tightly drawn around their faces, huddling in opposite corners drinking a dirty mug of watered down butterbeer, with the bartender peering at them curiously and the waitresses avoiding their glance altogether.  
  
It was to this miserable inn that three cloaked figures made their way to through the pelting rain, sloshing through freezing water and mud and muck. Their nondescript grey, brown and black cloaks are soaked with icy rain and mud. Their teeth seem to chatter in time to the rhythm of their boots trudging through muck as they slowly persevere forward. These three are seeking a way to end the plague. Their names are Harry, Ron and Hermione.  
  
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Hey, how does it sound so far? I know it hasn't really started, but I'm just putting it out to see if it maybe has potential and maybe get ideas for how to continue.  
  
If you like it, please review. If you hate it, please review.  
  
If I need to be more descriptive, or my writing style sucks or whatever, definitely review. If you review, IT WILL MOST DEFINITELY MAKE MY DAY. I'm not kidding. My other story got 1 review and that was just asking to review her stories, and I was so happy.  
  
Anyway, Please, please, please review. Thank you!!!!! 


	2. CH 2: Stonehengesburg Pub

My chapter 2 is up. yeah! But still no reviews. hmm. maybe that means nobody is reading it. I know it is entirely probable, but if somebody is reading this, just review. how long does it take anyway???  
  
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Hermione, Ron and Harry made their way towards Stonehengesburg Pub through the freezing rain, shivering and reflecting upon their individual thoughts. Albus Dumbledore, possibly the greatest wizard of all time, had assigned them to track the Plague's origin and Voldemort down, and to rally the people together against this new threat.  
  
Hermione squinted her eyes against the freezing onslaught. This venture against Voldemort went against all her common sense. Hermione was a girl who preferred her cold logic and sensible reasoning to extremely risky and suicidal acts of bravery. Not that she didn't approve of bravery: she just didn't approve of suicide. And this was certainly suicide. She turned her head stiffly to glance at Harry. He was their only chance of permanently defeating Voldemort, and they were putting him right in the middle of the most dangerous place for him to be: straight in the path of the White Life. She breathed on her frozen fingers, hoping to warm them up. Her fingers were so numb, she doubted she would be able to keep a firm grip on her wand if danger arose. She stamped her feet, partly trying to get the circulation going, partly in anger as she recalled how she had vainly struggled with Dumbledore, trying to persuade him of the foolishness of this venture. Suddenly she shivered and pulled her brown woollen cloak tighter around her. She prayed that soon they would reach Stonehengesburg Pub, right in the area where the White Life was striking.  
  
Ron trudged through the ice-cold rain directly behind Hermione, deep in thought, which was rather unusual for him. He couldn't help but feel inclined to complain to himself about the dreary situation they were in, even though he didn't want to sound whiney, even to himself. I hate this mission, he thought to himself belligerently. Too many things could go wrong, we're all in so much danger, the damn weather is bloody cold, and my grey cloak is awfully prickly. They had already scoffed all their rations, and Ron was becoming exceedingly hungry. Suddenly he brightened, and pulling on Harry's arm, pointed to a weak light shining through the gloom.  
  
When Ron tugged on his arm, Harry looked up briefly, startled out of his thoughts. He had been mulling over this mission, and had come to the conclusion that he did not like any part of it, and was extremely displeased with the position he was in. The success against Voldemort depended entirely on him, and he found that he did not particularly like having loads of responsibility placed upon him nor did he much enjoy the weight of it. He longed to shrug it all off, to be able to just risk his own life and not have to worry about the thousand or so other lives that he was risking as well. Sighing and looking up, he also could see the light Ron had pointed to and, putting his mouth right up to Ron's ear, shouted to make himself heard above the storm, "I think we're here!" Now they could see that the light was in reality a light shining from a window of a pub that at one time might have looked cosy, but now only looked dirty. Harry could see the swinging sign over the battered door that read Stonehengesburg Pub. At least, he thought it read Stonehengesburg Pub; the painted letters were fading, and what should have been the o was completely gone. Butting in front of Harry, Ron boldly stepped in front of the door, and knocked quickly, as if he were afraid that if he hesitated he might lose his nerve.  
  
"Ouch!" he exclaimed suddenly, breaking the silence that they had been travelling with for miles. "I've gotten a splinter. bloody door."  
  
In spite of her nervousness, Hermione giggled- a tight, high-pitched, nervous giggle. That little giggle got them all started. Harry started chuckling, and even Ron couldn't keep a goofy grin off his face. Just then the door opened, nearly causing Ron, who had been leaning on it, to fall onto the man who had opened it.  
"Watch yoreself!" grumbled the man darkly, shining a flashlight and peering suspiciously at the giggling teenagers.  
"Youse 'oolygans best git ohn atta 'ere," the man shouted threateningly.  
  
Despite herself, Hermione almost dissolved in another fit of giggles at the man's crude accent.  
"What did he say? I can't understand him," whispered Ron.  
"I think he said we're all hooligans - and it's not funny!" Harry warned, glaring at Hermione. Under Harry's fierce glare, Hermione soon managed to suppress her laughter and pull her smile into a straight face.  
"Sorry," she mouthed wordlessly at him. Harry turned to the man, hoping to make amends. The man was extremely tall, large, and heavy, with coarse black hair growing every which way out of his head. Harry was particularly revolted when he noticed that bits of food were stuck in the man's beard and moustache. His eyes were wide and wild, darting in every direction. In fact, the man would look a bit like Hagrid, if Hagrid were mean and stupid and crazy.  
"Erm - well, actually sir, we wanted lodging and we're not hooligans. We were just laughing over a joke, sir."  
As soon as Harry started speaking, the flashlight was turned towards him, and the man shone it directly onto his face.  
"Shore y'ain't. weel nah, iffen it be lodgin' y' want, youse can be comen inna 'ere, but I shore tink thaten youse be 'oolygans, an' find de liddle 'oolygan be what I be dooen bes', so mah eye shall be keepin' watch on ye, m' darlins, arr yep, so mote it be, eh? Weel, comen inna, youse cahn be a payen the liddle mizzus of the 'ouse, she be the one t' keep de seekel. ahh it be 2 seekel far de lodging far a nite. Yoreselves shall be a reqwestink two rooms, eh? One far de perty miz, and de atter far youse two 'oolygans."  
After this odd speech, the man, who was Grunklik, turned and entered the pub, doubtless expecting that Harry, Hermione, and Ron would follow.  
Hermione bravely entered the pub behind Grunklik, trying to ignore the hostile stares of all the others as she crossed the room. Times were hard nowadays, and nobody was eager to warm up to strangers. Strangers could be thieves, bandits, plague carriers, or Death Eaters.  
Grunklik pointed out a maid to Hermione, so she knew whom to call if she were to be hungry. "Hurr name be Grekel miz, an' she be a maken gudd soop," he told her, and then promptly left, not wanting to spend more time than was absolutely necessary with the strangers.  
Hermione felt like an outcast. Turning to Harry and Ron, she gestured that they should eat before retiring to their rooms. They hesitantly lingered around the tables and benches, not sure if they should sit where they chose, or wait to be seated. Finally, Hermione realized the longer they lingered, the more hostile the stares of others were becoming. She also realized that perhaps trying to stop making them uncomfortable would be the best way of earning their trust. Promptly Hermione sat, pulling on Ron's arm as she did so, trying to get them to sit quickly. Unfortunately Ron was not expecting the movement and awkwardly bumped into Harry, sending him crashing into one of the hard and very solid wooden tabletops. At home in Hogwarts, a misstep like this would have resulted in a room full of roaring laughter, however here it only resulted in roaring disapproval and silence. Wanting to avoid the glares mixed with fear and mistrust directed at her face she was earning from the females, and the stares mixed with mistrust and fascination directed at her chest she was receiving from the males, she let her eyes scan over the rest of the dining hall of the pub. And she most certainly did not like what she saw. The roof was leaking in some places, wind blew in through chinks in the wall making the flames of a pitiful fire in the hearth flicker and dance, and one of the stout wooden beams supporting the roof had a faint, rust-coloured spot that she was certain could only be dried blood. Feeling suddenly queasy, she tried to turn away from the vile stain, only to find herself staring into a pair of bright emerald eyes in a very smelly and dirty face. The eyes were much, much too close.  
"Er- well, he- hello," Hermione sounded squeaky and flustered, even to her own ears. This would never do. How could she expect respect from these strangers if she didn't sound deserving of it? "May I inquire as to whom I have the pleasure of speaking with?" Much better, she told herself proudly. Except. what if he thinks that I am mocking him? Hermione bit her lip, knowing full well that if she made enemies with this boy she could expect him to sell out information about her, Harry's, and Ron's whereabouts. She owed Harry more loyalty than that. She couldn't fail him and Ron. Silently she vowed to herself that she would do everything in her power to become friends with this boy. "Weel nah, I'se be's Gak, marm, an' iffen y' e'er wan' mo' than de plaisure o' havin' speech wi' I, it be I'se plaisure t' oblige, fer I knowses that marmfolk likke haven a warm bed, eh?" Well, maybe she would not do everything in her power to become friends with him. She would certainly not sleep with him. Feeling somewhat flustered due to not knowing what to do, she opened er mouth, then closed it, then opened it again "Ron." she whispered hesitantly to her friend, "Did you hear this fellow clearly? I think he wants to. never mind, could you help me, please?" Ron turned from where he had been murmuring rather earnestly to Harry. "Oh, having a bit of trouble, are we, 'Mione?" Turning from Hermione to Gak, he sneered and assumed a mocking tone. "Why hello, you ugly bloke. Think you stand a chance with Hermione, do you? I think I'll answer that question, to save your slow, boorish mind the years it would take to figure out that she is rather too good for you. Too bad chap, but better luck with one of the flea-bitten dogs here, eh?" And with that, Ron dismissed him by turning right back around to resume the thumb wars he was engaging in against Harry. Hermione looked livid. Leaning close to Ron's ear, she hissed accusingly. "How dare you! I meant for you get rid of him without causing trouble, not getting him mad so he has no qualms about selling us out to any Death Eater who happens to ask after us, stupid!" Before she could draw breath to continue berating him on his insufferable stupidity, Gak spoke up. They had quietly forgotten him there, sitting so close to Hermione with his little impish smile aimed at the rotting thatch ceiling. Facing Ron, he smoothly interrupted her. "Weel nah, lets see. red hair an' rude mahnerses. Nots very puhlite, noither. Youse must be's da one ahm a lookken out far." And with those words and a parting wink at Hermione, he left through another door, no doubt informing the person that had been searching for them of their arrival. Ron gaped. Yet another example of him opening his mouth before thinking. Hermione shot a glance filled with despair and blame in his direction. He shared her anxiety and despair, but he resented the blame with which she looked at him now. The only reason he had even opened his mouth was to help her get away from that slimy git, Gak. It was most definitely her fault! Whenever he was around her, he always got a smidge overprotective, probably because she was always asking after his help, anyway. So she should keep those resentful glares to herself, instead of directing them at him. Suddenly, two shadows filled the doorway Gak had exited moments ago. Looking up with a feeling of dread, the three friends and companions looked directly up into the smirking face of the one they had not expected to ever meet with in a place as dirty as this. Silvery-white hair was perfectly in place, slicked back. Perfectly shaped eyebrows, one arched up quizzically, were over steel grey eyes. Usually carefully blank and nearly impossible to read, they were now clearly mocking and amused. This figure was dressed impeccably in fine garments without even a spot of mud on them. A well- filled moneybag hung at his side, and whenever he shifted position, the coins clinked and jingled promisingly. At his side stood Gak, fingering a golden coin- obviously his reward for turning in Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Gak made a face at Ron, attempting to mimic the sneer that his employer turned upon the three friends so expertly. After turning a last admiring glance at his employer, he walked past Hermione, whispering menacingly in her ear, "Guess I can afford you now. see you later, pet." Hermione shivered disagreeably, and turned to face the person opposite them. A cold, drawling voice broke the silence. "Having a nice vacation are you, Potter?" Harry faced the speaker, his emerald eyes narrowed to bright shards in anger and hate. "Draco."  
  
Sorry it's so overdramatic, but oh well. please, please, please review. I really want ideas about the upcoming storyline. I pretty much have a good idea, but suggestions are always welcome of course! Lol. Okay, well sorry it took so long! 


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